Clara
by Musical Sunrise
Summary: When Clara was 5, her village was attacked by bandits. The person who saved them she knows only as The Fullmetal Alchemist. From then on, he becomes her hero and her aspiration. This is her story.
1. It Begins

**Not an OC Romance Fic.**

**I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Hiromu Arakawa does. And that is not my name.**

**Chapter One: It Begins**

They came in the morning, when the people of my village were just beginning to wake up. The bakers and shopkeepers were just beginning to set up for the day. The miners and the men who worked at the mill were just starting to leave for work. Mothers were just beginning to prepare breakfast, or start other morning chores. The children, such as myself, were still asleep at so early an hour.

I was only five years old that summer, and what a dreary summer it was. It did nothing but rain every day. We hardly ever saw the sun. We lived pretty far north, you see. Me and Papa and Mama and Ben. The four of us, all together. I think we were quite happy, but then again, five-year-olds are typically oblivious to hardship, so I'm not sure just how accurate that is. I was no exception, happy and oblivious to hardship. At least, I was until that day.

As I said, they came in the morning. The bandits, I mean. I don't know why they attacked us. We were such a tiny village, young and only just starting to grow because of the discovery of coal and the opening of the coal mine. They couldn't have expected to make much profit off us. Thinking on it, they looked pretty scraggly. They must have been desperate. Whatever their reasons, they came that morning, and my sheltered world was shattered.

Now, my first knowledge of their attack was when I was quite rudely yanked from my nice, warm bed by my older brother Ben, who dumped me unceremoniously on the ground in his haste. It was not a pleasant way to be woken up, and once I had recovered from my surprise, I must admit that I began to cry. Loudly.

Ben, only eight years old and already beginning to think himself rather important, had no patience with my tears. He grabbed me by my wrist, which I was using to wipe my eyes as I sobbed, and hauled me to my feet. "No time for that now, Clara!" He scolded, and the urgency in his voice made me really pay attention to him for the first time. He looked frightened me more than any scary story I'd ever heard. My brother prided himself on his bravery, among other things. If he was scared it was major.

"What's going on?" I asked as he pulled me out my bedroom door. "Ben, wait! My bear… We can't leave Betsy!" I protested, for I went nowhere without my prized teddy bear. I pulled my hand from his grip and rand back to my bed, where I had left her.

"Clara!" My brother yelled at me, not necessarily an uncommon occurrence, as he always was a very bossy person. "We've no time for that!" And once again he grabbed my hand, pulling me along and down the stairs. He was running by the time we made it to the front door, which made it extremely hard for me to keep up. I had been a premature baby, tiny. So tiny I could fit in one of my father's large, coal-miner's hands, and this was a trend that had continued on in my life. I was still a tiny thing, and could not hope to keep up with my brawny brother.

The moment we crossed the threshold of the front door and I could see the familiar outside surroundings, I found that they were no longer as familiar as they once were. There was smoke everywhere, and random articles littered the street. The villagers, whom were all very familiar to me, were running in all directions, yelling and screaming and making a general racket.

I was completely shocked by this sight, and my brother must have been, too,, because he stopped dead in his tracks and my small body slammed into his back. I was too stunned to even care for my sore nose, which had been the point of collision with Ben's back. We both stood there in our pyjamas in the miserable drizzling rain, watching the first steps to the falling apart of our lives.

I am proud to say that it was I who snapped out of our daze first. Horrified by what I was seeing, I released my brother's hand in favour of grabbing onto his arm. "Ben! What's happening? Where's Mama? And Papa? Ben, I'm scared!" I cried all very fast.

This seemed to shake him out of it, and I suppose his protective older brother instincts kicked in when he looked at my frightened face. Without answering any of my questions, he grabbed my hand again and we ran down the street. I had no idea where we were going, and I couldn't care because I was more worried about the fact that it was raining and I was in my pyjamas and I wasn't wearing shoes and I was so very scared. Besides, Ben could take me anywhere and I wouldn't care, so long as I still had him to protect me and keep me safe.

Wherever my brother had intended for us to go, he picked the wrong route to take in order to get there, because he led us straight to the bandits. They were big, and dressed like they came from even farther north than us. Possibly Drachma? No, there's no way such a ragamuffin group of bandits could have gotten past the Northern Fortress Briggs. Not that I was concerned about that right then, or even knew of such things.

These men were HUGE! I don't think a single one of them was under six feet in height. Their hair was long and scraggly, they had rotten and missing teeth, and looked like they had never even learned what a bath was. All in all, they were scary and hideously disgusting to look at.

We stopped, and Ben tried to turn us back around, but they spotted us. Neither of us knew what to do, so we just froze and waited to see what would happen. I clung tighter to Betsy and Ben's hand, thinking that I would never ever let go of either again as long as I lived. So long as I lived.

The bandit that decided that playing with a pair of scared children would be fun was, like his companions, massive. His hair was blonde and wild, with random thin braids strewn about in the overall mess. I remember thinking in giddy fear about how bushy his eyebrows were, a ridiculous thought to have at such a time. His hands and feet were massive, the size of hams, and he was armed with a big long sword. Swords were getting to be more unusual then, but they were still in use. I'd even heard at some point that the Fuhrer himself favoured swords, and was very skilled with them.

As he came toward us, a big menacing grin spread across his ugly mug of a face. "Well, well, what do we have here?" He said, chortling as he went to prod Ben with his sword. Ben stumbled back to avoid the sharp tip, knocking me back with him as I was still cowering against him. The horrible brute threw his head back and let out a loud peal of deep-throated laughter as the two of us stumbled and fell backward together into the mud. By then I'd started to cry again. I still didn't understand what was happening, and why this scary man was being so mean. I wanted my mother.

Ben pulled me up from the mud and against him, wrapping his arms around me protectively as he managed to glare weakly at the man. He told me later he had done it to tell the man that I was _his, _and he would not permit him to harm me or touch me. Being in his arms made me feel safer to some degree, but I was still terrified and clutched Betsy as though she were my lifeline.

The bandit laughed even more at my brother's display of protection while his buddies continued to destroy our village. "Ah, so the little boy thinks he can protect his baby sister, eh?" He chortled. "Well, let's see how effective that is!" And with one swift motion he'd grabbed me by the arm and ripped me from Ben's protective embrace. "No!" My brother yelled in fury and despair, his hands grasping frantically for me as I was torn from him. I screamed and dropped Betsy in my terror, and she fell into the mud. The bandit brought me close to his face in order to inspect me, and I turned my face away in disgust after catching a whiff of his rancid breath.

"Well, well, you're a tiny little thing, aren't you? Just a little mite of a girl." He said, leering at me and laughing. My brother took a furious swing at him, which did nothing but cause the bandit to give him a hard whack with the back of his hand.

"Ben!" I screamed as the blow turned my brother's head so far sideways so hard it looked like it might snap clean off his neck. The impact quite literally sent him flying, and he tumbled end over end in the mud when he landed. After all, and eight-year-old boy was no match for an enormous, muscled bandit. The bandit kicked him in the side, sending him tumbling again and making him cry out in pain.

"No, no! Please stop it!" I begged as my brother curled around his injured side. The bandit wound up for another kick, ignoring my pleas. "Please don't hurt him! Please!" The second kick knocked my brother even further, and this time he slammed into a rock. He was bleeding, and the blows had hurt him so bad that he couldn't even stand up anymore. I sobbed in fear and rage, powerless to do anything but pound that monster in the face with my tiny fists as he knocked my precious older brother around even more.

One of my blows hit him in the eye, and this seemed to hurt him, because he let out a yell. This distracted him from pounding on my brother, but he unfortunately turned his attention to me. He gave me a fierce glare, and this made me forget about my now unconscious brother. He looked so furious that I immediately felt my insides clench up in terror, fearing what the enraged bandit might do. "I-I'm sorry." I whimpered, shrinking away as much as I could with him still holding on to me. "I-I didn't mean it."

"So, you wanna mess with me, huh, girlie?" He asked menacingly as I shook my head frantically. "How dare you hit me?" I quivered in his hold as he sheathed his sword and pulled out a dagger, and I began to squirm in a terrified bid for freedom when he brought the sharp blade's edge close to my face. "You hurt my face, now I'll hurt yours." He said.

I kicked and cried and screamed as he cut me, the blade digging into the flesh between my left eye and my nose, and travelling down and to the left along my cheek and jaw, stopping at my neck. It hurt, and I wailed at the pain and the warm blood that dripped down my face and neck from the wound. Except for my incessant wailing, I was fairly meek now. I didn't want him to cut me again.

"Not so fiery now, are ya?" He sneered, watching me as I reduced myself to crying and snuffling. He started to walk off with me, and I had no idea where he was taking me. Ben was still a motionless body of the ground- I didn't know whether he was even still alive, or if he'd died from the abuse he'd taken from the bandit. I could say again that I was terrified, but I've said it so many times already that you already know, so it's pointless to say it anymore. I think you get the idea.

He was holding me by the back of my pyjama shirt, and I dangled limply. Watching my brother be beaten and seeing the wrecked remains of my village had taken the fight right out of me. I was resigned to my fate. As far as I was concerned, my life was already over.

We rejoined the rest of the bandits, who had finished with their destruction and plundering. I discovered that I was not the only one who was taken captive. There were other boys and girls from my village, at least ten of them, all ranging in age from four to nineteen. I wondered what they were planning to do with us. I remember looking into the faces of my fellow captives. Some of them were scared, some were crying. Some, like me, had become completely resigned and had no life left in their eyes. They too had seen their loved ones hurt or killed, their homes destroyed. They knew that their fate would be a bad one.

That night, we all lay huddled together, surrounded on all sides by the bandits. That's when the older captives told the rest of us that the bandits were planning to sell us as slaves in another country. Those who couldn't be sold would be killed, and their organs would be sold on the black market. It was scary news, but I hardly cared anymore. All I could think about was whether Ben was all right, and where my parents were, and how I'd left Betsy lying in the mud. After learning about what our fates would be, none of us spoke anymore. I don't think any of us slept, either. I know I didn't.

* * *

**Alright, my first Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction on the site. As previously mentioned, this is not an OC romance fic, as I do not intend to pair Clara with any existing canon characters. This fic is essentially about how Clara sees Ed as her hero, and aspires to be like him.**

**I'd love it if you'd review and tell me what you think of this one. I'm fairly pleased with it. Thank you for reading.**


	2. My Rescuer

**Chapter Two: My Rescuer**

For three days and two nights we travelled, stopping only for short meal breaks or to sleep for the night. It was a gruelling pace, hard on my small body. I was exhausted in mind and body, capable only of placing one foot in front of the other. It didn't take long for me to fall ill. The ceaseless walking, the cold, rainy weather, the emotional trauma, the lack of food, and my disinterest in life were all probably contributing factors to my ill health.

The bandits were horrible. They were cruel and violent, with terrible manners and no guilt at smacking us around. I acquired another cut to my face for being to slow for one particular bandit's liking. We were all cold and wet and miserable, and wondering what was going on back home.

It was on the afternoon of the third day that things changed. That was when I saw him for the first time. The man -then a boy- who I would declare my hero for the rest of my life. The person I credit with saving me.

We were trying to cross a river at the time. Ruth, a seventeen-year-old who was the baker's daughter, was in charge of carrying me across. There were bandits stationed on either bank of the river, to make sure nobody tried to make a break for it. I clung tightly to Ruth's back, eyeing the rushing water warily as we neared it. I could tell that Ruth was also scared, because she was very tense, and kept getting tenser the closer we got. She took a cautious first step into the water, easing herself in gently. The current was strong, and the water icy. I don't know how she was able to endure it. I could feel the icy coldness his my feet and legs as we got further in, and the cold shock made me gasp. They quickly became numb. Ruth didn't complain about my nails digging into her shoulders- I guess she was too preoccupied to notice.

She nearly fell once,, slipping on a mildew-covered rock, and we both screamed. The bandits jeered at us and laughed as we scrambled to right ourselves so that we didn't fall in. We eventually made it safely to the other side, but it was an experience that neither of us wanted to repeat.

When we made it to the other bank, Ruth was permitted to put me down. My numb legs were unstable underneath my weight, but so were everyone else's, so I had no right to complain. I was a bit disappointed to find myself back on the ground. Except for having to go through the river, I'd liked being carried. It took the burden off my aching and exhausted (and currently numb) legs. It wouldn't be fair to ask Ruth to carry me, though, since she was likely to be tired as well. A bitter part of my brain argued that she wasn't as tired as me and all the other little ones, since the bigger ones could just walk to keep up, and we had to run.

We'd gone maybe 30 meters past the river when everyone suddenly stopped. I hadn't been expecting the sudden halt, and walked right into Lucas, the blacksmith's eight-year-old son. I took a step back and rubbed my throbbing nose, wondering why we'd suddenly stopped.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Lucas, tugging on his sleeve. He, like me and most of the rest of us, was wearing pyjamas that were now tattered and dirty from our long trek through the woods. I peeked around him to try and see what was happening, but everyone else was like a solid wall that I couldn't see over, so I couldn't see what the problem was.

Lucas looked back at me, his brown eyes meeting my green ones as he whispered his reply; "I don't know. I can't see anything either." I frowned. He was taller than me, but I guess he still wasn't able to see past the others either. So we stood side-by-side, quietly waiting for something to happen.

"There's this short guy blocking the road." One of the older boys whispered to us. "He's just kinda standing there, with his arms crossed over his chest. The bandits don't know what to make of him. What in the world is he thinking? Doesn't he know that these guys are trouble? He's gonna get himself captured, just like us."

Lucas and I looked at each other in bewilderment. The people in front of us shifted a little uneasily, and we finally had a little opening through which we could see the intruder. Just as the boy had said, he was standing there with his feet firmly planted and his arms crossed over his chest, looking quite like he fully believed he owned the place. It was as though he somehow thought he were an impenetrable wall, one that the bandits would not be able to get past. We all began to squirm uneasily, the silence and the tension making us too nervous to hold still. If something was going to happen, no matter what it was, we wanted it to happen and be done with so that we wouldn't have to go on worrying about it.

Finally, one of the bandits, a greasy fellow named Janders, spoke to the stranger. "What d'ye want, brat?" He growled. "Ye're in our way. Move or ye get to join our wares. That, or we skin yer hide off yer body." As he spoke, he pulled out his sword, pointing it threateningly at the stranger. The message was clear: If the stranger didn't obey his command, he would deal with him himself. I was able to see this brave and foolish individual now, since the others had backed up rather quickly, not wanting to get mixed up in the fight that was brewing. I scowled a little as I was jostled, and moved back to where I could see. He was quite the handsome boy, with long blond hair that caught the sun and turned it into a glowing gold colour, but would have been much lovelier if left loose and not tied back in the thick braid that he had it in. Leaving it loose would be impractical anyways. His eyes were the same bright gold as his hair, and spoke of a deep self-assured confidence. Jonah had said he was short, and indeed he was, but I hardly noticed. In my eyes, he looked huge. I don't know whether it was due to the fact that I was such a tiny kid, or because of the aura of confidence and slight arrogance he possessed that made him look bigger. His bright red cloak made him stand out even more. He was quite the unusual person, and he immediately caught my interest. How would he reply to Janders' threat?

The boy narrowed his eyes as he looked Janders over. Despite the huge height difference, he looked wholly unimpressed by what he saw. He did his little once-over with slow deliberation, clearly liking the fact that his delayed response angered Janders. His message was pretty clear. He was not intimidated by Janders, and had no intention of obeying his orders.

"I'm looking for someone." He said finally, looking Janders square in the eyes before his eyes travelled slowly over the other bandits, and even more slowly over us. He inspected our faces, I suppose trying to find the person he was searching for. Me, Lucas, and Hannah were short, and in the back, so I don't think he saw us. I wondered who it was that he could possibly be looking for. I'd never seen him before, so I was sure he hadn't come from our village. Perhaps he was from a village that the bandits had raided earlier? I felt a little bad when this thought occurred to me. The only captives here were from our little village. Whoever his friend was, they had probably been sold off already.

Janders ground his teeth in irritation. "Listen, kid. Whoever it is yer lookin' for, we don't got 'em. Now get the hell outta our way." He growled, advancing on the boy, who watched his advance unwaveringly, and with disinterested disdain. Janders was furious at being treated so lightly, especially in front of his buddies, who were watching the exchange with interest. They had yet to interfere. I suppose they found it amusing to watch their comrade get one-upped by a kid.

"Oh?" The golden-haired boy replied calmly, smirking at Janders. "Well I think you do. My friend asked me to find someone for him. Someone from that village you fellas destroyed three days ago. He said you lot took her. I'd like you to give her back, along with all the kids you kidnapped. I'll bet they're sick and tired of having to stare at your ugly mugs all day." He said. We gasped at his cockiness. He had guts, to be able to speak that way to man who was nearly seven feet tall and bulging with muscles, along with the added intimidation of being a greasy, foul-smelling mess. But this boy spoke as though he could throttle the bandits with ease, but that was impossible. There was simply no way he could take on all of them. He had to be crazy or something, for him to be saying such things. Besides, if these guys were so easily defeated, my village wouldn't have been destroyed. However, his confidence and the relaxed way he stood there despite being stared down by twenty-five odd bandits impressed me.

Janders and many of the others became completely outraged by the insults. At the time, I had a fleeting thought of that being strange, since surely they couldn't have thought they were actually good-looking. There was a limit to stupidity, after all. Or so I thought. I gasped when the bandits charged at the golden-haired boy, baring their swords. "I'll slice ye into pieces, ye cocky runt!" Janders bellowed, swinging his big, heavy sword at him. I gasped again in wonder when the boy was able to easily dodge it.

"What did you just call me?" The boy asked, his voice low and deadly. His eyes looked really scary right then. He was pissed, and I didn't understand why. He'd been completely calm until a moment ago.

Janders recovered from his missed swing, and stood straight again, scowling. "Ha! What's wrong with calling a runt a runt, you damn runt!" He spat.

"WHO'S SO SMALL HE COULD FIT IN A PILL BOX AND STILL LEAVE ROOM FOR THE OTHER PILLS?" Golden-head yelled, completely losing it. We all gawked in utter amazement as Janders was sent flying from a hard punch to the head, and another to the stomach. He stayed down, stone unconscious. Man, Golden-head could hit! He panted after taking out Janders, apparently trying to reign in his anger.

"So, anyone else want some?" He asked, his smirk sliding back into place as he brandished a fist at the bandits. And with that, it was an all-out war. Twenty-four huge, brawny bandits against one short blond teenager. Some of the other girls turned away and covered their eyes when the fight broke out, too scared to look, but I found myself too amazed to look away. Golden-head was incredible! He was single-handedly taking out all the bandits, knocking them aside as though they were mere insects, a simple annoyance. A few kicks and punches, and they'd be completely out of the game. And what's more, Golden-head could wield magic*. It was like the ground was coming up and shaping itself into weapons to aid the boy in his fight. It was amazing.

"Alchemy." One of the others, I can't recall which, whispered in awe. "That guy's an alchemist!"

"He's amazing*." Another whispered, also in awe. I couldn't help but share the sentiment. This was the most incredible thing I'd seen in all of my five years of life. Anyone who spoke whispered, as though they were scared that they would break the spell that seemed to have been cast over all of us if they spoke too loudly. Who was this incredible person?

He took them all out, all on his own. After he was finished, he stood in the center of the ring of unconscious bodies for a moment, admiring his handiwork, looking quite pleased with himself. Then he turned his attention back to us.

We all took a step backwards when those golden eyes turned our way, both awed and frightened. If this person could do so much damage to the strong bandits, what could he do to a group of mere children?

"So, as I was saying," He said, continuing on from what he had been saying earlier, as though he hadn't had to stop and bash a few bandits' heads in. Then he stopped and seemed to re-evaluate his words. "Well, I was sent to get someone specific, but I may as well bring all of you back to your village. The damage was pretty severe, but my brother and some friends of mine are back there helping out with repairs." He said as he walked up to us.

We eyed him, still wary. We weren't in the mood to be too friendly, having watched out homes destroyed, our families killed, and having spent three days in the hands of merciless bandits. So cut us a little slack for not being particularly cordial to him. When we didn't respond to him and just continued staring, he scratched the back of his head, looking perplexed.

"You lot aren't very friendly, are you?" He muttered. "Not that I can blame you, after what you've been through, but still, a simple 'thank you' would have been nice."

"Thank you." Ruth said flatly. She was just as wary as the rest of us. "Earlier you said you were asked to rescue one of us. None of us are particularly important. None of us is the mayor's kid or anything like that, so they wouldn't have sent someone like you to come get us. Therefore I highly doubt that the person you're looking for is here. Sorry."

I looked up at her in surprise. She was being surprisingly cold to the person that had just saved all our lives. I didn't understand grownups or teenagers very much. They all seemed to have such weird logic. Why couldn't they just let things be simple instead of trying to over-complicate them? Like when a person saves you, be grateful and say thanks. Don't glare at them as though they're just as low as the people that kidnapped you in the first place.

"Well, it's not necessarily like that." Golden-head answered Ruth, who frowned. "The person who asked me to do this favour was a kid. A boy who was worried about his little sister. 'They took my sister. Please, I'm supposed to protect her. She's my only sister. Please get her back for me! I'll do anything!' he told me. I have a little brother, so I could understand his feelings. That as it is, how could I refuse?" He explained with a shrug.

We stood in silence, thinking this over. Many of us had brothers, so it wasn't really narrowing things down. I wasn't even sure if my own brother had lived through being pounded. Finally, Ruth sighed and asked "Well? What's her name?" Golden-head blinked, realizing that he'd left out this important piece of information, "Oh? I didn't say?" He asked in surprise. We all shook our heads in unison, which startled a smile out of him. "Clara Berkley, I think." He replied thoughtfully. "Are any of you named Clara?"

I nearly fell over when he said my name. Me? He'd been sent for me?* Wait… Did that mean that Ben was all right? I felt my heart pound as I got my hopes up. Ben!

Golden-head looked disappointed when nobody answered. Lucas and Ruth were both looking at me, waiting for me to answer, but I couldn't speak over the lump in my throat.

"Well, I guess we'll head back then." Golden-head said, though he looked upset. That's when I realized that both he and Ben might think I was dead. After all, Ben was unconscious when I was taken, and the bandit had cut me, so there would have been blood. Ben could have spent all this time thinking that I might be dead, but had decided to cling to the hope that I'd only been taken, and that he would be able to get me back.

The others, unwilling to speak up for me since I didn't seem to want to, began to follow Golden-head down the path. I was unable to move, unable to speak. I didn't know what to do.

He happened to look back and noticed me standing there alone in the middle of the path. He frowned and came back to me while the others continued onward, more concerned with getting home than anything else. "What's wrong? Everyone's leaving." He said, looking back at the others' retreating backs, puzzled by the fact that they would just continue on and abandon me. By now I'd started to shake, the words that I couldn't say because of the lump lodged in my throat were building pressure, waiting to burst.

"What's wrong?" He asked in concern when he noticed how violently I was shaking. He knelt down in front of me, putting a hand on my back and looking around desperately. He must have thought I was having some sort of fit or attack or something. "Are you okay? I-"

He was taken completely by surprise when I suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt in my little hands, looking as him in desperation as the words finally poured out.

"B-Ben! Is he alright? Is he hurt? How bad? Where is he? Can I see him? What about my mom and dad? Are they alright? What happened to them?" I asked, all in a jumbled rush of words, my nails stabbing into my palms even through the fabric of his shirt.

He stared at me in shock for a moment, then gently reached over and brushed my curly red hair out of my face. I probably looked like a real mess. Dirt, dried sweat and blood, tear streaks, and the cuts on my face that I'd gotten from the bandits and had never had treated, made me a real sight to behold. "Clara?" He whispered. "Are you Clara?" I nodded through my tears.

He hugged me, pulling me close to him. I was surprised both by the hug, and the warmth it offered. I cuddled into him, craving the physical contact. He really was warm, and he felt strong. But the hug made me think of my mother, and I wondered once more if she had come out of it okay. Blonde-head picked me up and started to carry me back down the trail. I was on my way home.

* * *

**Okay, here's the 2nd chapter. I'm pretty sure you people don't need me to tell you who the golden-haired stranger is, eh? Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	3. Back Home

**Chapter Three: Back Home**

"We really weren't sure if you were alive or not." My golden-haired saviour said while I enjoyed the fact that I no longer had to walk. "Your brother said that, when he came to, you were gone and there were splashes of blood in front of him. When he told me that, I thought for sure you were dead, but he was so desperate to believe that you were alive that I just couldn't refuse his request to look for you. He's pretty roughed up, some broken bones, but he'll be all right." He explained as we went.

"So he's okay." I said, feeling immensely relieved. I had no idea what I would have done if someone had told me that he was dead, and that I would never see him again. After this good news, the full brunt of my exhaustion finally hit me. I slumped against him, laying my head down on his shoulder. All of my limbs felt heavy, as though they'd been poured full of lead. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember I was being passed to the village doctor. He'd managed to survive the attack, and now he was in charge of looking after everyone who was injured. He made tsking noises when he inspected my face, while the boy who'd rescued me hovered anxiously off to the side somewhere.

"Geez, to do this kind of thing to such a little girl." He said, sighing and shaking his head in disgust. "They weren't even cleaned afterwards, and now they're infected. They'll scar, without a doubt." He pulled out a sterile cloth and carefully wiped at my face. I screamed at the pain and tried to move away, whimpering pitifully.

"There, there, Sweetie. It's okay. I know it hurts, but I have to clean them or your face will rot off. You don't want that, right?" He said soothingly, and moved to dab at my face again. I don't remember if those were his exact words, but it was something close to it, because I remember sulking later about his choice of words and why he'd say such things to a child. Most people wouldn't tell a kid that their face would rot off. Then again, he'd always been the blunt type.

"No no no! It hurts! No!" I screamed, thrashing around.

Dr. Ballen backed off, and looked at the boy apologetically. "I'm sorry to ask you to do this, Mr. Fullmetal Alchemist, but could you hold her still for me, please?" He asked. "Her wounds need to be taken care of, and I can't do it if she fights me."

"All right." 'Mr. Fullmetal Alchemist' said, coming over to sit down beside me.

"No!" I screamed again, punching at him as he pulled me into his lap. I knew that he was going to help Dr. Ballen with cleaning my face, but I didn't want that! It hurt really bad! Why were they doing this to me?

I fought against the alchemist's hold as the cloth moved toward me, screaming at the both of them at the top of my lungs. I hated them both more at that moment than I had hated the bandit when he cut me. I liked these people. I trusted them. Hadn't they saved me? Then why were they doing things that hurt? They were so mean!

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't free myself. He had too good a grip on me. One way or another, they got my face cleaned and cared for. I fought and screamed and cried throughout the whole ordeal.

The boy alchemist stared at me when he was finally allowed to release me and transfer my screaming temper tantrum to the floor. "Do they usually react like that?' He asked in awe, I assume in regard to children in general.

Dr. Ballen grinned, a fact that infuriated me despite my preoccupation with trying to smash the floor with my fists, and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Some," he replied, leaning back on the counter and taking a sip. "Not usually Clara, though. She and her brother were trained very strictly not to fight doctors. She's usually one of the easiest, but she's probably too tired, hungry, and fed up to put up with anything more at the moment. Just let her scream. She has a lot of anger to vent, after all."

The Fullmetal Alchemist nodded and smiled. He looked a little worried when I let out a particularly loud wail, though, and he looked downright scared when Dr. Ballen told him that he had other patients to attend to, and thus would be leaving. When the doctor left, he watched quietly from his chair as I screamed my wordless fury at the world.

Eventually my wailing and screaming died down to loud crying, and then to small sniffles and the occasional hiccup. Soon, i was completely quiet. The Fullmetal Alchemist, worried by my sudden silence, put down the book he'd picked up and came over to check on me. He found my laying flat-out on the floor on my back, with my fists clenched by my shoulders. I was completely motionless, staring listlessly at the ceiling. I'd completely exhausted myself, and had no more anger left to keep me going.

He stared at me uncertainly for a moment, then poked my cautiously in an attempt to get a response. "You okay?" He asked tentatively after a moment, as though scared that he might send me into another fit if he said anything. I nodded tiredly in reply, not looking at him. He hesitated, then asked "You done?" I nodded again. "Do you want to see your brother now?"

This time, I looked at him. Yes, I wanted to see Ben. Very much so. But I was just so _tired._ I nodded and weakly lifted my arms. Luckily he understood the signal, and picked me up.

I snuggled into him like I had the first time. I forgave him for the face-cleaning torture, and he seemed relieved that I didn't bop him one as revenge. "All right, let's go find your brother." He said, opening the office door with one arm while cradling me in the other. "What was his name again?" He asked as we went in search of him.

I shifted in his arms so that I could see where we were going, still totally limp. "...Ben." I murmured. "Benjamin Berkley. He's eight."

"Ben, huh?" he uttered. "Good. Knowing his name will make it easier to ask about him. I'm not sure where they moved him to."

"No, you don't need to know his name to do that." I murmured, wanting to go to sleep again, but knowing I had to stay awake if I wanted to see Ben. That was the primary thing on my mind, and I was too exhausted to really take in my surroundings. Which was probably a good thing, given the state that my village was in.

"You don't?" He asked in surprise. "Why not?"

"Our village is so little. Everybody knows each other." I explained, still on the verge of falling asleep, and fighting it with what little strength I still possessed. "All you'd have to do was show me to somebody and ask if they'd seen my brother, and they'd know exactly who you were talking about."

"Oh, I see." He said thoughtfully. "Sounds a lot like my home."

"Where are you from?"

"Rizenbool."

"...Where's that?"

He laughed. "Further south, and further east." He said. "Near the border to Ishbal."

"Oh." I thought about this for a moment. "So what's Ishbal?"

"Ah," he said, realizing just how little I knew about the world. And that he had high expectations of a five-year-old. "Well, I suppose you're only three. You wouldn't know about such things." Scratch what I said before. Apparently he didn't think I was five.

I drew myself up indignantly, and I have no idea how I mustered the strength to do that. Children are surprisingly hardy, I must say. "I am _not_ three! I'm _five!_" I exclaimed, greatly insulted. I showed him with my fingers. "See? This many. And what does being only five have to do with anything? And what's Ishbal?" I demanded, glaring at him.

"Really?" He asked, his obvious surprise only adding to my irritation. "I thought... Because you were so little..." His voice trailed off and a look of horror crossed his face. At that time, it confused me, but years later I understood that it was because he'd used a stereotype that was used against him all the time, and hated. He couldn't believe he'd used it against someone else, and was horrified. But I only realized this after I'd heard more about him and gotten to know him better, so I naively asked:

"What's wrong?" While peering curiously into his face, my previous anger forgotten at this new, interesting development. "Will we reach Ben soon?" I asked, immediately forgetting my concern for him when I remembered my brother.

"Um, Ishbal is the country to the east of us. And yes, very soon." He said, and I settled back, content with these answers.

We walked a little more, and arrived at what had once been the village green. It was currently being used as a place to gather the wounded. We looked around, searching for Ben. One of the women who was helping to care for the wounded noticed me and came over.

"Clara! You're okay!" She said, reaching out and pulling me out of the Fullmetal Alchemist's arms, without my consent in the matter. I made an angry noise. I was tired of being yanked from the arms of people I cared about. The woman ignored my protest and continued on. "Clara, honey, your brother's this way. He's been worried sick about you. He's injured, so we've been trying to get him to stay put, but he keeps wanting to go charging out to look for her." Obviously, the last part was not directed to me, but towards the boy who'd previously been holding me.

I somewhat forgave her for taking me since she knew for sure where Ben was, but I was still a little mad. She carried me off, with my rescuer trailing along behind us. And then I saw him. My brother was there!

"Ben!" I shrieked, immediately starting to wriggle frantically so that I could run over and hug him. He was okay!

He was lying on a blanket, holding still while Myra Smithson fussed over him. His curly head shot up when he heard my voice, his eyes searching the crowded green for me. He spontaneously burst into tears when he saw me. My brother, who never cried. He tried to get up, but Myra wouldn't let him, and the woman holding on to me wouldn't let go.

When I glared up at her, she looked at me sternly. "Now remember, your brother is injured. You mustn't jump on him. Be very gentle, okay Clara?" She said firmly, looking me right in the eyes were her light brown ones.

"Okay, okay. Now let me got to Ben! I'll be gentle!" I promised in a very demanding voice, still struggling to get free. She sighed and set me loose.

The second my feet touched the ground, I was racing toward my brother. When I reached him, I plunked myself down on the ground at his side. I think the women were scared that I was going to be too rough with him in my excitement, since they both started forward. I remembered my promise, though, and gave my brother a very gentle hug. Ben hugged me back carefully, still sobbing like a baby, rivers of snot running down from his nose. I attempted to wipe it off with my sleeve, since my pyjamas were already filthy, and a little mucus wouldn't hurt anything.

I was overjoyed to see my brother, but I didn't cry. I was too tired, and I'd done far too much crying over the past few days. So I just held him as I cried. He'd probably been just as worried about me as I'd been of him.

"Cl-Clara." He sniffled when he had calmed down enough to talk. "A-Are you okay? Y-Your face... Will it scar?" He looked at me tearfully, and I could see guilt in his eyes. But why? He'd done nothing wrong. He'd protected me until he was beaten unconscious, and when he'd come to, he'd sent someone after me right away. Wasn't that all he could do? It was enough for me. As far as I was concerned, he had nothing to feel guilty for.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I said, patting his cheek comfortingly. His cheeks were covered in freckles, same as mine. I hesitated before answering the question about my face, recalling what the doctor had said. "...Yeah. Dr. Ballen said it'll scar." I said.

His face crumpled, and it looked like he'd start crying again. "Ah, but it's okay! I don't mind!" I said quickly, trying to stop the tears that I could sense were coming.

"B-But... It's your face... And you're a girl." He sniffled, rubbing his fingers through my tangled red hair. "Won't it bug you when you're older? People will stare... And they might say mean things." He said quietly, looking away from me.

I, being five, did not completely understand what he was saying, since at that age I didn't fully grasp the concept of 'forever.' "Are _you_ okay?" I asked, distracted from the previous topic when I noticed the cast on one of his legs.

He glanced down at himself and winced. "Yeah, more or less." He said. "I'll tell you what happened tomorrow. We can exchange stories. Now come over here and go to sleep." He said, lifting an arm. I nodded and obediently crawled under his raised arm, tucking myself against his side. He lowered his arm and we cuddled closely together. It didn't take us long to fall asleep, as exhausted as we were.

* * *

**Okay, I had this chapter pre-written, but since I lost my notebook, I didn't actually get to post it until I found it again. There was no way I was completely re-writing something this long. Luckily, I found it just in time for New Year's. So consider it as a New Year's gift from me to you, and I hope you liked it!**


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